“‘JANE!’ I GASPED ... ‘JANE, OH, JANE, I’VE FOUND IT!’”
“He’s out in the hill-paster,” said Jane, reviving. “He said he couldn’t stand it t’ stay around the house.”
My heart sank as I followed her down the stairs. The hill pasture was a good mile away.
“Perhaps we can hitch up ourselves,” I suggested, hugging the precious quilt to me—feeling the papers crinkle in my grasp.
“I kin hitch up,” said Jane, “but I can’t ketch old Susan, an’ never could. She jest naterally runs when she sees me a-comin’.”
“Well, we’ll try,” I said, desperately, for I hadn’t much confidence in my horse-catching abilities. “Come on,” and laying the quilt on the table in the hall, I opened the front door and ran down the steps—and right into a boy who was standing there and staring disconsolately up at the house.
“Oh, Tom!” I cried, a great load lifted from my heart. “Oh, but I’m glad to see you! Tom, I’ve found the treasure!”
For an instant, I thought he didn’t understand, he stood staring at me so queerly, with all the colour fading out of his cheeks. Then it rushed back again in a flood, and he sprang at me and caught me by the hands in a way that quite frightened me.
“Say it again, Biffkins!” he cried. “Say it again!”